


Asking and Declining

by Rasiaa



Category: Bleach
Genre: Beaches, Car rides, Cruise Ships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasiaa/pseuds/Rasiaa
Summary: He asks but he's never serious, and so when he has to ask, "What kind of man are you, Hirako Shinji?" the only thing the blond can say is to come over and find out.





	Asking and Declining

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Published: 5-18-15
> 
> Suggested listening: What Kind Of Man, by Florence and the Machine.  
> I tried to write this as a sequel to "Timers", but that didn't work out. Hope this is just as good.

"Alright, you lot! Get up and get gone, I don't need you stinking up the place again!"

I snicker under my breath and Tatsuki shoots me a grin, waving her arms and shooing her students out the door. She turns back to me and groans aloud, dropping her clipboard and falling face first into the floor mat. She says some kind of complaint, but I shake my head, still laughing, and say, "Can't understand you, sanpai!"

She lifts her head, her hair falling over her face and shoulders, and replies loudly with, "Fuck you, Kurosaki," before slamming her face into the mat again.

I shake my head with a smile, standing and walking right over her to the back room. I work with her sometimes as an instructor for her martial arts groups, so I get free rein over everything in her place. I would anyway, but some of our other friends don't, so it gives me bragging rights.

Shuffling over uniforms and wooden boards and the other random things Tatsuki has scattered around her back room, I eventually manage to put my duffle bag back together, just as she joins me. I glance up at her and she frowns at me, watching me zip up the bag and heft it onto my shoulder. "You're leaving?"

"Mhm," I agree, stepping around another pile of crap to reach her. Bending down, I press a kiss to her cheek and walk out of the room. "Hiyori made a huge fuss about me not making dinner for their lazy asses yesterday, so it's my turn tonight, and I get to clean up, how joyous," I inform her.

"Sounds amazing," she says, following me. She grabs my bag and pulls, and I spin around, a question on my lips but she shakes her head. "Clean up," is all she tells me, and this time I groan, dropping my bag. I pull my jacket off and drop it beside my bag. It's late October, and so it'll be dark soon and I really wish I could just go home.

Nevertheless, I follow her around as she hands me broken wooden boards, cinder blocks, and mats. I look at the pile of heavy things around my feet and ask loudly, "How'd you expect me to lift all of this?"

"One of two ways: you're stupid scary strong, right? Or, you could be sensible and take two trips, or more, depending on how weak you decide to be today," Tatsuki returns from her place on the other side of the building, on her knees rolling up a mat. I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at her, but she ignores me skillfully.

Three unfortunate trips later, I have all of the extras in the back room where they belong, and Tatsuki is lifting the last of the mats to lean on the wall. As she pushes it into place, I pull on my jacket, pick up my bag, and gesture around. "Am I free now?"

She turns, a genuinely confused look on her face. "You were always free, it's not my fault you're so gullible," she responds.

I turn around and walk out the door, flipping her off and ignoring her laughter as the door slides shut behind me.

Shinji is waiting for me in his car, the hood down and music playing loudly from his speakers. Wordlessly, I throw my bag into the back seat and climb over the door into the passenger's seat, not even fully settled before Shinji puts the car and reverse and is pulling out of the lot.

It takes a minute to find a safe place to pull out into the busy rush hour traffic, but once Shinji manages to find one, he takes it, flipping off the guy he cut off and the one who honked the horn and starts cussing him out. I lean my knee on the air bag lid in front of me and stare at my phone for the entire time, coaxing Uryu through his nerves to propose to Orihime tonight through text messages.

He's a wreck.

It's silent in the car for a couple of moments, but Shinji speaks up at the light. "What took ya so long?" he asks, tapping idly on the steering wheel to the backbeat.

"Tatsuki held me hostage."

"Do I have ta pay a ransom?"

"Naw, she told me I was gullible and threw me out."

Shinji bursts out laughing and misses the light turning. A few seconds pass and the guy who honked at us earlier swerves around us into the next lane and flips us off, much to Shinji's further amusement.

He presses the gas and we move forward on the road, our conversation dying down. He keeps his eyes on the road, switching lanes to cut off the guy in front of us a couple of times while I take advantage of the silence to admire him.

Sometimes I think I love him so much it hurts.

He catches me staring and jerks into the side road, having nearly missed it since he caught my eye. "Somethin' wrong?" he asks, moving his gaze from me to the dirt path in front of us that will lead to the warehouse.

"Love you," I say.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye and I see him smiling to himself. "Love ya too, Ichigo," he returns.

Then he turns onto a side street.

I frown slightly but lean back in my seat, unquestioning. He knows what he's doing.

.

Some times passes and I think I fell asleep at some point, because when I open my eyes we're still driving and it's just after dusk. I glance around; we're on a highway, and trees are passing us by with snow on their branches and dead leaves around their trucks. "Where are we?" I ask groggily, sitting up fully and blinking.

"Was gonna take the long route to the warehouse just to be alone for a few more minutes, but got a call from Lisa just as we reached our original road. She wants more porn magazines, and since we're supposed ta have some kind of stand-up reputation since the Soul Society is watching us again, we gotta buy 'em elsewhere."

I remember that call. I was just dozing off when I heard it ring and Shinji swore colorfully, answering just before we were set to head home. He passed our street right by once he hung up.

"Okay then," I agree, pulling my jacket tighter around my body. Shinji takes notice and asks if I want to pull the hood up, but I shake my head. "I like the wind," I say, and he looks unsure but nods in acquiesce anyway.

A few hours pass us by, dotted with the changing of music stations before we just shove a CD into the player and sing along to that. Occasionally, we'll talk, but mostly it's just the sound of the music and the ringing of our terrible voices.

We pull up to a small town and there's a porn shop near the back of it, poorly placed next to an elderly home. We get some dirty looks when we pull up next to it, but while I duck inside, refusing to look at them, Shinji waves cheerfully and gives them a thumbs up.

As soon as he follows me in, I step on his foot harshly, causing him to yelp in alarm. We get some looks from the customers in the shop- all males in their mid-thirties or forties, much to my resigned chagrin. I stand by the door and furiously text with Uryu while Shinji takes his sweet fucking time. He has me, what the hell does he want to look at porn for? I wonder, momentarily hurtfully bewildered.

"Come on, love," he whispers in my ear, his hand pressing into the small of my back to lead me outside. The same old ladies give us disgusted glances; I ignore them and climb into the car. Shinji closes the door after he hops in too, starts up the car and we start driving out of the town.

It's a quiet, homey little place, despite the porn shop. It's the type people would see in movies, the town that everyone wants to live in but never can because they're so rare. Clearly everyone knows everyone; no one leaves the town because everything is right here. There's a theatre and a market, salons and saloons, small family run shops, along with several small houses and apartments. There is a single elementary school and a high school, right next to each other.

"There's a beach," Shinji speaks up suddenly, turning onto a side road.

"For gods' sake, Shinji," I sigh, "It's the middle of the night in late October!"

He grins at me and parks the car on the edge of the sand. "What's ya point?"

"What kind of man are you, Hirako Shinji?" I call after him, watching him run right into the water as if he has no care in the world.

"Come here and find out!"

Groaning in an exaggerated manner, I open the door and climb out of the car, shutting it behind me. I walk to him casually, watching his gaze flit over me slowly. "Tease," he greets me, pulling me by the hand into the water's edge.

I huff. "I didn't even take my shirt off," I protest.

He leans forward, his lips skimming over mine. "Doesn't matter," he breathes, and then seals our mouths together. I rest my hands on his ribs and kiss him back; tasting the mint gum he'd been chewing earlier on his tongue when it met mine.

We exchange kisses for a while, eventually standing ankle-deep in the ocean pressed completely together. "Marry me," he whispers, when we pull apart.

I stare at him. He looks slightly surprised at himself, and I roll my eyes. "I'm nineteen," I protest, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to his jaw. "So no."

"Ya sure?"

I pull away and stare at him some more. He doesn't look surprised or hurt, so I nod. "I'm sure," I say. He pulls away from me entirely.

"Come on, then. Lisa wants her porn," he says, as if the whole five minutes previous had never happened. I blink, then follow without a sound.

…

It's Rose's birthday, and he had demanded that he wanted the hell out of Japan for his two hundredth celebration.

"Two hundred?" I asked, sitting up and gaping at him.

The Visored turned to give me odd looks. "Uh, yes?" Rose tried, obviously confused.

"Fuck," is the only thing I managed, and then sunk back into the couch and half-heartedly listened to their planning.

Five weeks later, we're on a cruise on the edge of California, heading to the Caribbean before we hop onto a plane in southern Florida back to Tokyo.

Last I saw, Rose and Lisa stumbled into their private cabin, shirts half-off, attached at the lips and smelling like the bar more than the bar does. I turned away from them and leaned on the railing of the cruise ship, nursing a beer bottle and staring at the water.

I haven't moved since then except to drink from the bottle, and play with the string of white lights on the railing. I'm hardly even buzzed, much to my disappointment.

Shinji stumbles up next to me and leans on the railing only for a second before he twists himself around to kiss me. He's smells like the bar and tastes like vodka, so I pull away and shove him. "You stink and taste bad," I tell him mercilessly, but after four years together he's used to my unforgiving comments about his drinking habits.

"Ya wound me," he pretends to faint, dropping himself to the floor at my feet. When he glares at me, I wonder briefly if he had expected me to catch him before I discard the idea; he should know better than that. "Ouch," he emphasizes, and I roll my eyes and return to my previous position.

He rights himself and leans his head on my shoulder, taking my empty hand and twining our fingers together. "What's got ya in a mood?"

"I'm not in a mood."

He snorts and then chokes a little. Clearly he's had too much. He fixes himself again and then leans up and kisses the spot behind my earlobe, teeth grazing over my skin. I shiver at the action so he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer, moving his kisses down lower to my pulse point. I lean my head to the side and feel him bite me. A flash of annoyance runs through me. He knows how much I hate hickeys, but he loves seeing the marks on my skin so he ignores me.

I put up with it because just about every other part of him is decent.

Well, I think, my breathing laboring as he starts trailing kisses over my collarbone, not really, but he's the only one worth my time, and since we started- not dating, really, since we never go out together- this relationship, he's made me fall in love with him.

"Marry me," he murmurs against my shoulder, shifting my shirt so he can reach it better.

Ever since that time on the beach, he's asked me this question nearly every week. I've never told him yes, and I'm not about to start. "No, Shinji," I sigh.

He hums a little and kisses my mouth this time, fingers hooking into my belt loops and dragging me to our assigned room. I allow it because I've gotten used to the taste of the vodka, and the more I kiss him the dizzier I feel.

It's euphoric.

…

After two years, he just stops asking, so I stop saying no.

…

My twenty-second birthday comes and goes and it's December before I know it.

I stare blatantly at Shinji while he dances around the kitchen with his headphones in. He's obviously not noticed me yet, or else he would've stopped.

And notice me he does, after a few more minutes. Flushing, he pulls the headphones from his ears and moves to kiss me in a greeting, heedless of my protests. "I was enjoying the show!" I say loudly, ignoring Kensei's hard-pressed suffering sigh from the table.

Kensei brushes past me, getting a bottle of alcohol from the wine cabinet and potting the cap, taking a long drink from it before he even leaves the kitchen. I watch him go, then return my sights to the blond in front of me. "Since he's obviously geared up for the night, let's go have sex," I offer, and Shinji rolls his eyes.

"Such a typical twenty-two year old," he scoffs.

I snort. "Duh. Now are you coming or not?"

"Marry me first," he says, and I jolt.

He's holding up a silver band, and for the first time since he asked me on that beach, I can finally see that he's serious. He really wants me to marry him.

While I'm staring at him in blank shock, he thins his lips and snaps the wedding band into his hand with a sigh. "Wait!" I cry, just as he starts walking away.

He turns, expectant, and I run my hand through my hair. "Who's taking whose last name?" I ask, and he smiles.

He kisses me and the ring fits well, so I cling to him while he pushes me against the wall and runs his fingers over my sides. "Thank ya, love," he murmurs, kissing me again and again. "Thank ya."


End file.
